


'Unannounced' Visit

by hannibanni753



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bondage, Chains, Drunkenness, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Tickling, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 14:07:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4922524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibanni753/pseuds/hannibanni753
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond gets ridiculously drunk after a mission gone bad and comes home to find an intruder, whom he only recognises as his Quartermaster after he half choked him to death. Poor Q has only wanted to upgrade Bond's security systems and now finds himself chained to the drunk agent's bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Unannounced' Visit

**Author's Note:**

> First it looks like Non-Con, but in the end it's Dub-Con^^ kind of, partly, I think so... you've been warned!  
> I don't own them, poor me.  
> Hope you enjoy^^

Bond has a ritual. Usually, when there’s a mission gone bad – Bond almost dead, Bond dead and back again, information not successfully retrieved, mission gone public, etc. – Bond gets home, gets drunk and crashes with his nightly conquest. He does it so he doesn’t have to face M, a constant reminder of his greatest failure of his career - losing the old M – and also to not to have to face Q, who will chastise him for not returning any of the equipment, which somehow bothers Bond almost more than the former.

He can’t say why, maybe it’s the intelligent, knowing eyes that look him over, as if to tell him ‘Everyone waits for you to crack, and you give them good reason to.’. Or maybe it’s the shame he feels when he disappoints the Quartermaster for not taking better care of the gadgets - or himself, for that matter. Actually Bond can’t say anything, because despite his tolerance level he has managed to get spectacularly drunk tonight. He hasn’t even bothered to find himself a one night stand, or maybe he is even too drunk to have succeeded with anyone. Either way, he doesn’t remember, he doesn’t care. What’s important now is getting in his flat to finally being able to pass out.

But when he miraculously manages to unlock his door, some of his training instincts kick back in. There’s somebody in his flat! Slowly he takes off his shoes to muffle his steps, closes the door quietly and sneaks forward, checking every room, until he’s sure that this someone must be in his bedroom. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees one of the many strange remnants that find themselves recycled in Bond’s flat or that he plainly hasn’t bothered to return to Q-Branch and which slightly indicate what kind of man here lives. This link chain can be put to good use, he finds himself thinking. Gently he wraps it around his fists and then moves to quietly open the bedroom door.

There’s a dim light at one of the bed side tables, and next to it crouches a figure, working on some cables with his back to Bond. Like a beast of prey Bond sneaks up on him and wraps the chain around the stranger’s neck in a deadly efficiency. The person - a man apparently - shrieks or tries at least, since the air supply is immediately cut off. In a panic the person tries to grab Bond and struggles vehemently. Normally his adversary would be doomed and as good as dead, but because of Bond’s drunk state - for a moment out of balance - he loosens the chain, and the person croaks

“Bond! Wait…“

The chain is back in place, and the dark-haired man now franticly seeks to get the chain off his skin. But now something in his slow-working brain clicks – and Bond realizes that he’s strangling his own Quartermaster. In a first shock reaction he jerks the chain away from Q’s throat, who now desperately inhales the newly found oxygen, clasping his throat and grimacing in pain. But he doesn’t get a long break, because Bond now is furious. How dare he break into a Double-Oh’s flat, especially such an unstable one and at night! Bond could have killed him! Another body to pile up on his account! How stupid can one be? Is he _suicidal_? _I’ll show him what he gets for an unannounced visit like that._

In a fit of rage he grips the poor man’s hands, forces his shirt and jacket off his body and wraps the chain around the forearms and up to his wrists. Then he jerks him up to the bed. All Q can do is follow, to avoid Bond dislocating his arms. He looks up at Bond, who unerringly secures the ends of the chain to the head of the bed.

“Please listen to me, Bond!” He implores in a hoarse voice. Trying to clear his throat, he urges further “James! Please! I was supposed to come by and lay tracks in order to upgrade your security system, remember!” In answer to that Bond twists Q around, so he now lies on his stomach, facing away from Bond.

Q swallows. Not good. As he prepares to beg again, Bond swiftly stuffs something in his mouth – a ball gag! How the hell did Bond come up with that so fast? But then again, it is Bond we’re talking about. Of course, he has sex toys close by the bed.

Now that the Quartermaster is tightly secured to the bed, Bond gets up, and staggers towards the bathroom. Q with his head turned to the side, watches him anxiously and cringes, when the door slams shut with a bang. He can only hope that Bond sobers up enough to realize what he’s about to do... Q doesn’t want to think about that. He also doesn’t dare to try and free himself. Bond would crash him in a heartbeat.

In retrospect, it has been a bloody stupid idea to come here so late. Of course an agent like Bond reacts allergic to intruders. On the other hand, Bond has been warned. He _had_ explained to him that a visit would be necessary. But Bond never listens and Q never gets out of work early. He wanted to upgrade Bond’s flat as soon as possible, as paranoid as the agent is. So he told himself it couldn’t wait.

Of course, he was also eager to see the flat, sniff around a bit. Bond is a mystery to Q. Sure, he shows off all of his talents at work. But Q is certain that there are way more facets to Bond than meets the eye. Q is intrigued, has been since their first meeting in front of the Temèraire. And that is not an easy thing to accomplish with Q’s intelligence unmatched by far.

Q’s train of thoughts gets interrupted by a decidedly not sobered up Bond stomping back into the bedroom. And he still radiates that consuming anger that makes Q flinch away into the pillows. Nobody wants to get near a drunk agent, not a Double-Oh-Agent, especially not a Double-Oh-Seven. Drunk means unpredictable, and unpredictable with a Double-Oh means scary, if not terrifying. Q doesn’t look but Bond seems to make an effort to undress. When he feels the mattress shifting, he tenses up instantly.

“’m gonna show you… what happns… breakin’ in m’flat…!” He roughly tears down Q’s trousers and pants.

“Hmmnnn” Q whimpers lowly and half-heartedly tries to crawl away. Bond grabs his feet effortlessly and the shoes and socks land on the floor alongside the other clothes. Now Bond spreads Q’s legs forcefully and holds him in place. Q squirms and thrashes, but Bond is stronger. When he first bucks his hips against Q, Q jerks up in shock, but then notices that Bond hasn’t managed to get his trousers off. _Yet_.

Realizing how close Q is to getting raped, he starts panicking, but he can’t really get away. He is almost in tears now, trembling, helpless. Being held in such a straining position for his thighs, bruises already forming where Bond’s fingers bore into his skin, it almost comes as a shock when Bond’s fingers, cool and sticky from the applied lube, start to prepare Q’s hole quite gently. It doesn’t hurt at all – physically. Q’s body even responds to the stimulation, but he can’t help to start crying. He was forced into the situation after all. He feels violated already. This is not how he’d imagined a night with Bond, if it were ever going to happen.

Only when Bond notices the muffled noises that must come from Q and sees his body trembling uncontrollably, Bond lets go of him and falls back. Shit. _What am I doing?_ He has the probably purest and most innocent soul that is working in MI6 lying bare in front of him. And he, stupid-fucking-James, has nothing better to do than be a brute and – what, _rape_ him?? Jesus, if that doesn’t look like he is cracking into pieces, he doesn’t know what will…

“Fuck!”

After a while, drunk as he is, he slowly and softly begins to stroke Q’s calves up and down. When Q’s sobs cease a bit and his breath evens out, he carefully places a kiss in the hollow of Q’s knee. Q’s leg twitches at that and the tension doesn’t leave him, but otherwise he remains silent. Bond’s fingers tardily wander up to Q’s thighs, not stopping to caress his skin in little gentle movements, careful not to send Q in a panic attack again.

Bond watches in awe as that wonderful person beneath him steadily relaxes into his touch, when moments ago he was in danger of being violently hurt by the same person that is now stroking and kissing his thighs. Whether it’s just naïve or downright stupid for someone in their business, Bond can’t help but feel warmth spread through his stomach and then the rest of his body for the trust he is witnessing. His kisses get lighter, almost as soft as a tickling feeling, as his mouth wanders up to Q’s buttocks. When his fingers start to massage the flesh and softly pull Q’s cheeks apart, Bond starts licking down to the rim. His tongue circles it, varying the pressure teasingly. While his hands grip his backside tighter and the massage gets more passionate, the touch of the tongue becomes lighter, until it almost goes unnoticed, almost.

\-------

At the sudden change of treatment Q is confused. Bond has stopped grabbing him so forcefully and is not touching him at all. Q is still scared. He doesn’t know what to expect next. He’s not sure if he’s somehow miraculously avoided the unspeakable. But since Bond isn’t making any movement to cover him up or remove the chains, he dreads the development. However, he suddenly experiences a change in the way Bond touches him. All violence seems to be gone. It feels almost like reverence, appreciation of every inch of his body, as he slowly works his way up. It feels strange and sudden. Q realizes that this is Bond’s way of saying _sorry_! He allows himself to relax. When Bond puts his mind to it, he can indeed work wonders with his hands. Now Q understands how everyone is so easily seduced by the man.

He sighs and let’s his mind drift. Oh, it feels good. As far as Q is concerned, Bond can apologize more often. Oh God, now he’s started teasing his opening, with his mouth! And Q loves every second of it more. He’s trying not to press his behind up to get more friction. But when Bond’s licks become so ticklish light that a jolt goes through Q’s body, he’s unable to hold himself back down and bucks up with an enormous moan. But its effect is suppressed by his gag, in which he is now biting down hard. And also Bond must have expected his reaction, because his hands hold him adamantly down. Q’s feet twitchingly try to get some leverage to kneel against Bond’s weight, but Bond has other ideas. In a flash Q is on his back, revealing his half-hard errection.

Arms still fixed to the headboard, he lifts his head to look down at what Bond’s up to next. The agent just grins, takes off Q’s glasses and turns off the light. Sight gone from 100% down to zero in a heartbeat, Q lets his head fall back into the pillows.

 _Ouch_. Bond has pinched one of his nipples, but his cock seems to have approved because it twitches and only gets a little harder. Delighted, Bond bites into the other one, not releasing it so fast this time. Groaning, Q squirms under the intense stimulation, which goes straight to his groin. As one of Bond’s hands tortures the other nipple in a similar way, the other one explores Q’s body, stroking down his side with a light touch. When it accidentally pokes Q in the side, while Bond shifts, the reaction is immense.

Q flinches hard to the side as to escape the touch. Bond halts and looks at him in the dark.

“So I’ve found a ticklish spot there, haven’t I?” Smirking at the frantic head shake that he can make out in the dark, he repeats the poke. When he hears a sharp intake of breath, it is all he needs for confirmation. “So let’s see if there are some more betraying sensitive spots that make you squirm so beautifully!”

He abandons Q’s chest in order to dedicate his attention to potential weak spots on Q’s body. Q, meanwhile, disapproving of the loss of Bond’s body heat in such close proximity, tries to trap him with his legs. Laughing, Bond shoves the slim limbs almost lovingly back down to the mattress. It doesn’t take long to find another target surface: as soon as his lips brush over Q’s abdomen, ever so slightly of course, Q arches up frenetically. Bond happily indulges in further torture of the young man, who writhes against the unbearable soft caresses, trapped under Bond’s strength again. His precome leaking cock remains completely and utterly ignored.

When Bond decides that he has exploited this new-found weakness to his satisfaction, fingers trail their way down Q’s legs with some purpose that make Q jerk them away from Bond’s grasp in apprehension. Inspired and confirmed in his suspicion, Bond devotes himself to one leg alone, tracing it down with one hand and gripping Q’s ankle firmly, while his other hand starts tickling the sole of Q’s foot playfully. Unable to get his leg loose, Q strikes out with his free leg to fight Bond and his mean behavior.

Well, what to say, a moment later that leg is trapped under Bond’s weight as well and the sole of the foot ready for the taking.

“Sweet sweet Q,” Bond teases him, “if I had known how to render you pliable earlier, I’d have my exploding pen and countless other gadgets by now.”

And he is not so wrong. Right about now, Q would do _anything_ for some release. Or just… something _different_. Anything but tickling. This infuriating helplessness is driving him mad, and now Bond _knows_. Oh, God help him, if he spreads the word in MI6. All the other Double-Ohs are just as ruthless. But that is not something to think about now, because now Bond changes his tactics to attack him everywhere. To add to the horror, in the dark it’s impossible for Q to see it coming.

Every time Bond surprises him with the place where he strikes next. Only one thing is for sure. He never gets anywhere near his cock, the only part where Q desperately seeks friction. He is sweating enormously by now and can’t catch his breath. His brain is dizzy from the under-supply of oxygen. His hands try to grasp something to ground him, but he can only clench them into fists because of the angle Bond fixated him to the bed. But the pain he causes with his nails is not nearly enough, so he flexes his fingers again.

He can’t do anything and the sensations Bond seems to inflict everywhere carry him away. He feels like he’s falling. He can’t see anything. It’s overwhelming. It’s too much. _Itstoomuch toomuchtoomuch_ … He wants to scream.

Maybe he does, because now Bond pinches his nipples again so hard that he draws blood. But it helps. Pain is good. It brings him a little way back from the madness. He scratches down his stomach with his nails and it is so needed. Finally - finally Bond takes him into his mouth, pressing his tongue against his shaft, giving him the friction he needs. After a minute Q arches up and comes as forceful as it gets. Bond swallows everything and keeps him in his mouth, still working his tongue while Q shakes in the blissful aftermath, before he goes limp, boneless from exhaustion. Bond comes up and kisses Q on the forehead, stroking strands of his hair back and draws the blanket over him to keep him warm. Before Bond falls asleep half lying on top of Q, he removes the chain from his arms and the gag from his mouth.

Q lies there, waiting for the feeling to rush back into his arms. He enjoys the warmth that's radiating from Bond’s still body, who soon starts to snore softly.

“Apology accepted.” Q whispers quietly, pressing a kiss on Bond’s cheek, before he allows himself to drift off.


End file.
